


Let's (Not) Be Friends

by distantglory



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Post-Episode: e047 Company Picnic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantglory/pseuds/distantglory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin is certain that he could win over Cecil if he could just talk to his counterpart alone. After all, it's hard to be a community-conscious radio host when your town is being taken over—that is, assisted and improved with the generous help of—a mysterious corporation.</p><p>Unfortunately, it doesn't look like Lauren is going to give him that chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's (Not) Be Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a kind of bridge between the attitudes of Company Picnic/Renovations and Old Oak Doors.
> 
> And also because Kevin being passive-aggressive towards Lauren amuses me way more than it should.

“Until next time, Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area. Until next time,” said Kevin, leaning forward into the mic. It wasn’t what he was used to—Night Vale’s radio station was so old-fashioned—but in moments like these it hardly mattered. He was doing his job, really fulfilling his potential, and that was the most wonderful feeling there was. 

Or so he was instructed. 

He fumbled for the switch, pressed down until he heard a crack. The ‘On Air’ sign faded, and Kevin sat back in his chair with a sigh. Underneath his feet, the carpet squished, and Kevin’s smile widened. It was nice to have that little bit of home, thanks to the contribution of the Seans. It would be even nicer when the planned renovations started and Night Vale’s studio really _would_ become home.

Right now it just wasn’t at its best for productive work. Kevin got very strange feelings, broadcasting with this old equipment. Sort of...sick, and sad, but also distant and washed-out. As though he were looking at those feelings from a long way away—or very close, perhaps, but with a light so bright that it obscured rather than illuminated.

It was probably that first one.

The studio door opened, and Lauren squish-stomped into the room. 

“Kevin, what was that?”

Kevin spun to face his producer and vice-president, smiling his widest. “What was what, Lauren?” He examined her face. Unlike most StrexCorp employees, Lauren’s smiles were not always required to be large and toothy. At that moment, hers was thin and pinched, and her carefully made-up eyes were narrowed. “You seem a little upset,” he diagnosed. “Why is that? I thought that the broadcast went very well.”

“What was what? Kevin, you were supposed to give me permission to call you Kev. It would have sent a message about StrexCorp and how friendly and approachable we are, and how we create relationships between our employees that allow for maximum communication and hence, productivity.” Her lips thinned further. “I wrote it all down in your brief this morning, _and_ I put a note on your script.”

“Oh dear,” said Kevin, widening his eyes. “I’m afraid that when I was reading my brief in the break room this morning, there was a little...accident...involving some of the scorpions that seem to be infesting the place.” He indicated a crumpled and stained pile of papers. “I didn’t have anything else to hand, you see.” He plucked a piece of bright purple carapace from one page and examined it. “They’re a very _ugly_ color, aren’t they? Are we going to do something about that?”

“I’ve told Daniel to call some exterminators, but none of them will touch this place. He was working on...persuading...them, but they’re all at the company picnic now. So we’ll just have to stay out of there.” Lauren almost ripped the carapace from Kevin’s hand. “So, your brief had an accident. What about the note in your script?”

“You know, I don’t know,” said Kevin, reaching for a neater, but still comprehensively stained, folder. He flicked rapidly through the pages, leaving fresh red fingermarks on the margins. “Let me see... Ah, here we are!” He scanned the page. “Hmm. No, I don’t see anything.”

“Give me that.” Lauren snatched it. Kevin’s fingernails raked the cover, tearing through yellow plastic to expose the cardboard underneath, before he released his grip. Lauren’s smile grew even thinner, until her lips were almost invisible.

“Sorry,” said Kevin sunnily. “You startled me.”

“Well, I apologize,” said Lauren, displaying her teeth at last. “Now, let me just see...” She glanced down at the page. Her smile vanished entirely, and her eyebrows drew together. “What? Where is my note? I specifically wrote that note this morning, I was very careful! I checked it off on my to-do list!”

“That _is_ mysterious,” said Kevin, widening his eyes. 

Lauren slammed the folder shut and stared at him. Kevin stared back.

She broke eye contact first, shivering a little as she hauled her smile back up onto her face. “Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “We’ve got more important things to worry about.” She turned on heel, her shoe squelching on the wet carpet. “Come on, Kevin. We’ve still got one more thing to do today.”

* * *

The room was not an official Room of Questioning, but it still had many of the same features. It was made of shiny metal, and very bright, even brighter than most of the StrexCorp headquarters. Lauren was blinking more often than usual, but it didn’t bother Kevin. Neither did the steel chair he was sitting on, even though it was cold and uncomfortable. He hummed to himself as they waited.

“Would you stop that?” Lauren’s smile had improved when they got to headquarters, but down here it had become thin and pinched again.

Kevin stopped humming. “Why, of course.” He smiled even wider at Lauren. “I didn’t know it bothered you.”

Her eyes were narrowed and watering. “It’s not _bothering_ me.” She clutched the file in her lap. Her bright yellow nails were smooth and perfect against the pattern of orange triangles on the thin cardboard cover. “It’s just not the time for that kind of thing.”

Kevin nodded agreeably, and Lauren looked slightly mollified. Her hands relaxed around the file. 

“Do you think that he’ll agree?” asked Kevin. 

Lauren’s hands clenched again. 

“Well, he hasn’t agreed the last fourteen times we asked,” she said, relaxing her hands with obvious effort. Kevin could see thin crescents in the file cover where her nails had dug in. “I don’t know if today is going to be any different.” 

“But you never know,” said Kevin. “I think that the redecorating might at least make him a little curious. He had such a _strong_ reaction to our own radio station back in Desert Bluffs, didn’t he?”

Lauren’s smile widened a little. “Very true. Let’s see what he has to say about that.”

On cue, the heavy door at the other end of the room swung open, and a man—not tall or short, not thin or fat, wearing a tie that looked a little worse for wear—shuffled into the room. There was a blanket, woven with the same orange triangle pattern as the file that Lauren was carrying, draped over his head and shoulders like the hood of a robe. He glared out from beneath it.

Lauren’s lips pinched further.

Kevin beamed. “Hello, Cecil! Did you enjoy today’s broadcast?”

“You make a mockery of all that community radio should be,” said Cecil. Or perhaps _intoned_ was a better word. His smooth sonorous voice rolled through the room like a wave.

Lauren seemed impervious to it. Her attention was focused on the figure behind Cecil. “What is this? Why has he got a blanket?”

The StrexAutomaton held up one wrist. The machinery had been extensively damaged with something sharp, and there was a thick dark liquid dripping onto the shiny floor.

Kevin sighed. “Cecil, that is not what we use cutlery for. How did you even manage to create a sharp edge on those materials?” The cutlery and crockery provided to guests of StrexCorp were specifically designed not to hold sharp edges. It might have made eating a bit of a challenge, but that was better than the damage they might do StrexCorp property. Or to themselves, of course. 

“Trade secret,” said Cecil, a fraction smugly.

“Well, you can tell me, then,” said Kevin. “We’re both radio hosts after all!”

Cecil’s dark gaze was almost as sharp as the weapon he must have used to damage the StrexAutomaton. Kevin’s smile widened. “We are _nothing_ alike,” said Cecil.

Well, Kevin hadn’t really thought that was going to work. Not with Lauren in the room. She wasn’t a radio host, and she just didn’t understand sometimes. 

“Why _do_ you have your blanket?” he asked instead. “Do you find it cold in here?”

“Enough!” interrupted Lauren. “That doesn’t matter. Have you come to your senses?”

“I never left them,” declared the Voice of Night Vale. “I will not be your puppet, and I refuse to take part in the farce that you have made of my radio show.”

Lauren made a moue of distaste. “ _Your_ radio show. Cecil, StrexCorp bought the Night Vale Community Radio Station fair and square. I have, in fact, brought the paperwork to prove it.” She slapped the file down on the desk. Neither Kevin nor Cecil flinched at the sound, though it was a heavy file. “We are your employers. We gave you multiple warnings that your conduct was not in line with our company standards. And yet, we continue to give you chances!”

“StrexCorp is a _very_ generous employer,” agreed Kevin. “They just take a little...getting used to.” Smiling God knew that Kevin had needed time to adjust. Quite a lot of time. But he hadn’t had anyone to help him understand, and that could have made all the difference.

Lauren shot Kevin a warning look. He ignored it. She, of course, would _not_ understand Cecil’s position the way that Kevin did.

Cecil watched Kevin closely, eyes narrowed.

“In any case, even StrexCorp is running out of patience with you,” said Lauren. Kevin spared her a glance. She looked even more pinched and disapproving than she had before. It was very unprofessional of her. Sure, Cecil hadn’t responded to smiles and friendliness before, but you had to keep trying. Gently talking solved so many things! “We would, of course, _love_ to have you back at the radio station—”

“If I agree to read exactly what’s placed in front of me, in the exact tone of voice indicated. If I am mindlessly obedient to the whims of your company.”

Lauren’s eyes narrowed, but Kevin had been ready for this. “Now, see, _that_ is exactly what we need,” he said. Cecil broke his eye contact with Lauren. There was a slightly puzzled not-smile around his lips, and Kevin rushed into the gap that that confusion had created. “You have such a _wonderful_ voice for warnings, Cecil! All smooth and forbidding... I’ve been listening to some of your older shows, trying to learn the trick of it, and I tried to incorporate some of it into today’s broadcast, but...” He sighed. “I just can’t get it right! I don’t have the voice for it.”

Cecil leaned back in his chair. His blanket hood slipped back slightly. “You—were trying to sound like me.”

Kevin smiled. “You must have heard it. But, like I said, I just can’t get it quite right. That’s why we need _you_. I don’t think anybody could give warnings like you do.”

“ _If_ , of course,” put in Lauren. She was starting to get that huffy tone in her voice, the one that said that she was tired of people not paying proper attention to her. “You agree to our code of conduct and our mission statement.”

“It wouldn’t be so hard,” said Kevin, choosing his most soothing and encouraging voice. “We could _learn_ from each other, I think! I can’t give warnings like you do, but I think you could do with just a little more enthusiasm when you give announcements for your community. I would be happy to help you with that!”

“ _If_ you agreed to abide by our rules, and not go off on those...frolics of your own that you were so regrettably prone to.” Lauren’s fingernails were tapping irritably on the file. 

“Thank you, Lauren,” said Kevin, without taking his eyes off Cecil. “You’re so helpful, reminding Cecil of those _essential_ conditions.”

It wasn’t going to work. Kevin could already tell. Cecil had that stubborn look again. But Kevin could have sworn that, for a moment there, his fellow radio host had been almost _considering._ But Lauren’s attempts to be helpful were a tad ill-timed, because she didn’t _understand_ the way that Kevin did. Lauren had never had reason to be just a little bit...concerned...about the way that StrexCorp ran things. She hadn’t needed to see the light the way that Kevin had.

And of course, he couldn’t mention _that_ in front of her. She tended to get nervous when Kevin referred to his initial recalcitrance towards StrexCorp and their goals. And she had this unfortunate tendency to bother the Strex doctors with the problem—what _she_ thought of as a problem—which led to check-ups and consultations, and so many things that took up valuable time that Kevin could be putting towards the radio station. As if Kevin really needed to have his loyalty to StrexCorp reaffirmed and tested! He was always cleared these days, and the whole process was just so unnecessary.

It was all so very _frustrating,_ though. Kevin was sure that if they could just talk alone, he could dispel all of Cecil’s doubts. A friendly, understanding coworker would just do so much! Kevin had never had that benefit, and it certainly showed in the way that he had resisted StrexCorp for so long. But it appeared that, for now, it was not to be.

Sure enough, just as Kevin had known he would, Cecil folded his arms, narrowed his eyes, and _scowled_ at them both. “I will _never_ agree to your terms,” he said. “I will _never_ agree to be another cog in the machine of your damned smiling—”

“Let me stop you there, Cecil,” interjected Kevin. “Before you say something you’ll...regret.”

Lauren looked almost disappointed, but she quickly rearranged her expression into a more suitable smile. “Well, that is disappointing,” she said. “But I’m afraid that even if you won’t agree to return to the radio station, you are still a StrexCorp employee, and you’ve lost so much valuable productivity already that we won’t hold you up any further.” She stood up. “We’ll have you conveyed to the company picnic, and you can start working on making up all that lost time.”

“Not to mention making up for all the _fun_ you’ve been missing,” added Kevin brightly. “We’ll make sure they give you some of the brochures so that you know what to expect.”

“I’m so grateful,” said Cecil. His tone suggested that he was, in fact, exactly the opposite. Well, perhaps a little time in a proper StrexCorp working environment would help...soften...Cecil. It would certainly give him some things to think about.

“Careful,” said Lauren sweetly. “If you keep up that attitude, we’ll have to instruct the party captains to issue you with a party pooper hat before you even get to the picnic. That would be a real shame.

Kevin sighed inwardly. Lauren just didn’t know how to handle Cecil. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Lauren,” he said. “And we shouldn’t hold Cecil up any further. Besides, we’ve got work of our own to do, haven’t we?”

“We _do,_ Kevin,” agreed Lauren, through her toothy smile. “Thank you for reminding me. Well, goodbye, Cecil.” She stood up, collected the folder, and marched out. Kevin followed her, but paused at the door.

“I know that you’ll have a wonderful time at the picnic,” he said. “And I’ll see you again, Cecil. We’ll have the chance to work together yet! I’m looking forward to it.”

He didn’t wait for a reply—Cecil was still going to be stubborn at this stage, of course—but let the door swing shut behind him. He really would have to find a way to speak to Cecil alone... Then, only then, would he understand.

Smiling his widest, Kevin followed Lauren down the corridor, and thought about the future. The bright, blindingly bright, future.


End file.
